


Notice Me

by squiggid



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Gen, Manipulation, Social Anxiety, Trauma, bad fathers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22482916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiggid/pseuds/squiggid
Summary: Linhardt only starts to think that it’s more than shyness when one day Bernadetta comes to class late, hair disheveled and eyes sunken in.
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Bernadetta von Varley, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley, Linhardt von Hevring/Bernadetta von Varley
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101





	Notice Me

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder if anyone will read this, since it’s not a very popular ship. If you do, thank you.
> 
> I’m always here to chat! Hit me up on Twitter, it’s my name but a j instead of a gg.

It’s Linhardt who notices first.

The first day of class, he chooses a seat at the back of the room, maybe or maybe not already planning to sneak a quick nap in before the professor notices. Another person chooses the back row, which is slightly annoying at first, because then he has to at least feign interest in the lecture. But the other student never says a word, never answers a question, never asks a question. She’s so quiet that Linhardt does manage to sneak in a nap or two before the end of class. When the bell rings, he wakes up and turns to his classmate, but she’s already gone.

This happens every day they have class— the girl comes and goes as quiet as a mouse. Only when the professor calls on her and she squeaks out a response, flustering over words even when her answers are right, does he learn her name: Bernadetta von Varley. And after class, when the commoner girl in class nearly jumps out of her seat to talk to the newly nicknamed “Bernie,” the girl is already gone, quicker than usual, perhaps from the embarrassment of being called on in class.

Linhardt only starts to think that it’s more than shyness when one day Bernadetta comes to class late, hair disheveled and eyes sunken in. The professor comments on it, and Bernadetta looks so panicked that she’s about to pass out. Later in class, she answers a question, and afterward mumbles under her breath how stupid her answer was, how stupid she is, how she’ll never be amount to anything and she shouldn’t even try. And she leaves as soon as the clock strikes the hour, looking pale and nauseous.

Linhardt notices the behavior but doesn’t know what to do about it, or even if he should do anything about it in the first place. After all, it does seem rather troublesome.

He settles for observing for now and seeing how the year unfolds.

—

Hubert’s the one who notices next.

He’s been keeping a close eye on everyone in the house for any potential threats to his Lady or her future plans. Any one of them could try to overthrow her: the runt of House Bergliez trying to gain some form of power, the princess of Brigid who could use her savage ways to take revenge for her country. He hasn’t overlooked the heir to House Varley, with the rumors of her cursed dolls, so he watches over Bernadetta, even when she’s mostly holed up in her room.

She likes to cook. She likes to garden. She likes to sing quietly to herself when she thinks she’s alone. And when she’s truly at peace, when she believes no one is near her, she can smile— just a little, just to herself.

But some days are not so good. Some days she’s muttering to herself how stupid she is to think that she could be friends with Dorothea or Petra or even Lady Edelgard. Some days she’s crying in her room. Some days she says quietly to her dolls that they’re the only friends she’ll ever know.

As cold as Hubert is known to be, he’s not devoid of emotion or empathy. There is a strategic reasoning to it, too—as much as she hates to admit it or fails to realize it, Bernadetta is an excellent archer and thus a valued asset to Lady Edelgard and her protection. So he decides to reach out to Bernadetta one day. It’s clunky and only results in her running away shrieking, but it‘s the least he can do.

After determining she’s not a threat to Lady Edelgard, he leaves her alone.

—

Edelgard notices next, but she’s too busy to do anything about it.

Growing up in such miserable and traumatic conditions makes it easy for her to recognize the same in others. The turbulent white-haired girl in the Golden Deer house. The soft-spoken sweetheart of the Blue Lions house. But of course, she has to look after her own house members first.

Edelgard could recognize the reserved expression on Bernadetta’s face and the slump in her shoulders anywhere. She knows how someone with authority must have beaten out the confidence in her and driven her into submission. She knows that her fellow classmate must be internally begging for someone to save her but never believing that someone would come.

She wishes she could be that person. But she doesn’t have the time. She has bigger plans, a bigger vision. Once she’s achieved her goal of dismantling the church’s corrupt system, then she’ll have time to devote to restoring Bernadetta’s faith in humanity and herself.

She promises.

—

Ferdinand notices, and he’s the first to actually do anything about it.

It’s become common knowledge that his shy classmate often locks away in her room outside of the classroom. Although he thinks that the situation would be handled best by another woman, it seems that, to his chagrin, neither Dorothea nor Petra seem to be perceptive enough of their classmate, and Edelgard is always off with Hubert doing god knows what. His fellow noble Caspar lacks all sense of perception, and Linhardt is too unmotivated to care. Perhaps it is his sharp disapproval and disappointment of his classmates that brings him to knock on Bernadetta’s door so brashly.

“Bernadetta! It is not healthy to lock yourself away like this!”

“Go away!”

He tries again and again to lure the poor girl out of her room, but nothing works.

He tries, because he knows what it’s like. He tries, because he doesn’t want anyone else to feel unnoticed, desperately wanting attention and being valued. He tries, because this is the young woman his parents one day casually suggested he marry, but were unsure of due to unfounded rumors, and he doesn’t want her to be a laughing stock the way he is to others for challenging Edelgard again and again.

Eventually, after many failed attempts, he gives in, just a little bit, and apologizes to her through the door.

He wishes he could do something, but he has to admit—he’s hopeless with women.

—

Linhardt was the first to notice, and after taking much time to think about it, he’s the one to reach out to her in a way she understands.

Bernadetta always paints by herself in a field off to the side of the monastery, in a secluded area that only some know. Of course, he knows it, because it’s an excellent place to nap. And as happy as he is to keep the place to himself, he’s willing to share it with someone else—for a good cause, of course.

It’s tough, at first, to convince her to stay and paint as he reads by her side. He feels her tense energy, her shifty eyes trying to find an exit. But every time she makes an excuse to leave, he calmly deflects it. Petra has talked before about calming an anxious animal, and this may be the closest Linhardt would get to it. He has to match Bernadetta’s manic energy with his own calm aura. Her electricity to his soothing water.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she’s able to calm down. She’s able to relax and paint with him nearby. She’s even able to sing a little bit, the way he’s only ever heard her sing to carnivorous plants.

And then one day, with the gentlest of pushes, she opens up. She tells Linhardt of the torment her father put her through. She tells him of the twisted ideals he’s screwed into her brain, of submission, of docility, of worth. She tells him of her fears: fears of making friends, fears of losing friends, fears of never being married, fears of being married.

As hard as it was to convince Bernadetta to open up to him, it’s even harder to change what she believes—no, what she’s been taught. Linhardt knows he can’t change her mind easily, but he can at least show her that not every social interaction she has is cursed. Every suggestion he makes about her art lifts her perpetually frowning lips upward a notch. Every compliment drops hope into her eyes. Every invitation to study, to drink tea, to go into town and get some much deserved food smooths out her hunched shoulders, straightens out her back, lightens her step.

When one day, as the two are watching the sun set on the monastery, Bernadetta turns to him and smiles easily, Linhardt is happy that, for once, he put in the effort.

—

Years later, when the two of them are professors at Garreg Mach, between grading papers and falling asleep, Bernadetta whispers something long overdue but all the same appreciated.

“Thank you.”


End file.
